Maeglin Lómion
by Nerdanel
Summary: Through brief glimpses, Maeglin tells the story of his life as it unfolds. Introduction and first chapter posted. WIP.
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer: **I will say this once and once only:

_All characters, places, things and the original conception of this story belong the Tolkien Estate. I use them only for my enjoyment, and make no profit from this._

**Author's Notes: **This is the beginning of a story that I came across while rummaging through old things, and decided to take the risk of posting. I say it a risk for many reasons, but mostly because it is a different style compared to what I normally write. Therefore, feedback is greatly appreciated.

As far as the story goes, it was born of a hidden interest I have always harbored for Maeglin, and a try at explaining why I always pitied him, aside from the obvious.

**Maeglin Lómion**

**Introduction**

_      A mother looks down upon her child, and she cannot see the light in his face. She hears only the pain, the sorrow of his tears that echo in every dark crevice of the forest. Never before have these woods- old beyond all memory- been the home to a child. They are the home of the miserable, the tainted, the lost. The thick air and ominous trees do not welcome innocence. They do not understand happiness. As the mother looks upon him she is moved nearly to tears with him. Already crying. One breath of the poisonous air and he is choked by the same dark blanket of despair that she unwittingly stepped into so long ago. Yet as slowly as the days- the nights –pass it has been just over a year and no more since she first stepped into this breathless dark._

_      A father looks down upon the child and he does not hear his heart-piercing tears. He only sees the light- the light that seems to come from within him. The light of one who has not seen the dark. Though to most the light of the child would be dim indeed, it is blinding to his father. Blinding as the light of the child's mother was. Yet this light is not the same. He cannot say why but it is a light so bright that it is darkness. It is not a light created by light, but a light created by the darkness surrounding it. As the father looks down upon him, he cannot help but wonder. How can his own son have a light of his own? For he, though he has seen light, has never made it. And to look upon his own son, his son who seems so unaccustomed to darkness, and see that light, that innocence in his face, is something he cannot comprehend.           _


	2. I: Light

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**Maeglin Lómion**

**Chapter I: Light**

"Lómion," she whispers in the dark. "Lómion, arise."

Mother has come to wake me this morning. It takes me a long time to realize it is not a dream. That always happens here. Mother says that is because it is night all the time, so sometimes we cannot tell if we are awake of dreaming. I think it is only mother and I. Father is never troubled by the darkness. He likes it I think. Sometimes he can make me like it to. He talks all about the stars up in the sky, and tells me that's how the sky was meant to look. He says that the Valar changed it because they no longer cared about my father's people. I am sure they do. They must love everyone. That's why my father found these woods, where it is dark, just the way he likes it, all the time.

Mother is still trying to pull me out of bed. She pulls off my dark silver-grey tunic and puts on a shimmering black one. I like the shimmering one but I do not wear it very often. When father is home, he likes me to wear plain black ones. I don't mind, but I like to wear the ones that shimmer or the ones with little gold and silver beads on them. They look more like grown up clothes. Although the only grown-ups I know are father and mother. They are the only people I know.

"Come, Lómion. Your father left last night. I am going to show you something today."

She always has something to show me when father is away. It is the only time she gets to be with me, she says. When father is home, he is always teaching me. She says that when he goes away it is her turn to teach me. But since I am not allowed to ever use the writing and language she teaches me, I do not understand why I have to learn. Not that I mind it. It is very interesting to listen to mother's stories, about princes and palaces and adventures and heroes. She is very good at telling stories.

As mother leads me through the forest, I begin to feel warmer. It's very much like when she holds me, except this warmth is not solid. It feels like it is coming from the air all around me. Then it starts little by little to get brighter. Finally mother stops. There is a small creek in front of us. I have seen creeks and even small rivers in the woods before but this one is different. It seems alive somehow. It looks like there are little golden stars in the water. Mother sees me staring at them.

"Do you like this place?" She asks, and she sounds sad. I nod my head.

"I brought you here just after you were born. You would not remember. Your father did not want me to bring you here. But I told him that such a small amount of sun could not possibly hurt you."

Pretending not to be startled, I try to find something to hold onto. I pick up a branch that lies beside me and toss it into the creek. So that's what is making the little stars in the water. It is the sun.

"Aredhel," I begin . "I always thought that the sun was much brighter than this."

"It is." She sounds like she is going to say more, but then she suddenly stops herself. She and father both do that. They are always keeping secrets. But so do I. This whole forest is a home for secrets. They hide in all the little corners and sometimes you can hear them being whispered but it is very hard to understand what they are saying.

"Lómion," she begins to talk again. "How would you like it if I told you a story about the days before the sun?"

"Before the sun?" I ask, curious. "Is that the time that father talks about, when he says there were only stars?"

"Yes." She answers. "But there were not really only stars. In the land that I lived in, there was light. Beautiful light, brighter and yet softer than the sun. There was a golden light, much like the sun, and a silver light, like the moon on the brightest evening." She sighs, and then looks down at me. She sits down on a rock by the edge of the creek and gathers me up in her arms. Warm just like the sun.

"There were many beautiful elves that lived where I was born. They all had the light that was before the sun in their faces. They were always happy. Except-"

"Except who?" I ask.

"No one." She lies, and I do not question her further.

"Well," she continues. "I had two very close friends in this land. One of them had raven black hair, just like yours. The other had golden curls that danced like the laughter that rested in the corners of his mouth. They were my cousins. Princes of the Noldor. But they have passed into darkness with all the rest of their kin."

Mother sounds like she might cry. "Don't worry. I am sure they are happy in the Halls of Mandos."

She smiles. "No, no. They have not died. They live still, in a kingdom to the north of here. Himlad. It is wide and green and well protected against the Enemy. Yet in my heart they have died. I am afraid I shall never see them again. I was going to see them when I left my home, but I ended up here."

I wish I could understand what mother was talking about. She always speaks of places that seem so far and different from here. She speaks of people who are beautiful and kind. She speaks of the darkness that pursued her people, which had pursued her to this end. But she never uses names. She always speaks vaguely, as if she is speaking to herself, not to me. But I can always tell that for whatever reason she is sad when she speaks of these things. Suddenly she begins to sing something in the High Elven speech that father has forbidden. It is such a beautiful tongue, though I cannot entirely understand it yet. I close my eyes as I listen to her.

After a while, she stops singing, and I can feel her moving, lifting me up and carrying me back home. She thinks I am asleep, so I am very careful not to move when she puts me into my bed. She turns my back towards her and lies down beside me, her hand on my shoulder. I listen to her breathing become slower and calmer, and I know she has fallen asleep. I do not need my blankets with mother here, because she is always warm like the sun. __


End file.
